Perfect Plan
by public static void
Summary: To Lucius, the offer is about getting back what he needs to remain sane and dignified. To Hermione, it means getting her wishes one way or the other. Hint at Dark!Trio.


After the war, the trials happened. No known or suspected Death Eater avoided them and in many cases, the only required proof of allegiance to the Dark Lord was the magically-infused tattoo branded in their arms.

Some Death Eaters were freed, their crimes having been committed out of fear for their families. They would always carry a stain on their reputation, but they were free. Lucius didn't have the same luck.

His cell was in the bottom of Azkaban, dark and damp because of the lack of windows and temperature charms. He complained at first, telling his jailors how he would not risk escaping, how much he wished to be on a cell where his family could visit, and most of all how he had nothing else left but his dignity.

"I doubt you have that, Mister Malfoy," came a known voice from the aisle leading to the exit. Lucius thought it sounded familiar, but he couldn't know.

He swallowed hard, blushing furiously in the darkness. He was ashamed of his screams and yells for mercy even when only the jailers heard him, and now someone else had been there the whole time he begged. Malfoys didn't beg before the cursed Chosen One defeated their lord.

"I came here to propose a truce, Mister Malfoy," the woman said, still standing in the shadows. Lucius couldn't see her, but he could feel her magic: it was controlled, which was something more dangerous than simply powerful magic. "The Ministry needs someone of your expertise, who is not afraid of dirtying their hands. As the victors of the war, we have the right to demand it from you but chose to ask you nicely instead. And from what I heard before, you would do anything to see the _light_."

The hint of mockery in her voice didn't suit her, Lucius thought, but she spoke the truth. Harry Potter had not demanded anything yet from him, only from his son. The Ministry didn't have Potter's voice, though, so this dangerous woman could only be the mudblood Granger.

"Isn't it strange," Lucius asked, clenching his fists in pain as his sore throat —from being overused and underused at turns— felt like burning. "How the righteous Granger asks for help with illegal procedures?"

Lucius would have laughed if he thought he could endure the pain that would surely come to his throat. Instead, he merely scoffed.

"The Ministry _is_ useless in certain areas," was Granger's only reply. After a few seconds, she added: "But we know you have abilities we can exploit. The charm of a politician, the mind of a survivor, the _will to be free_ of a family man."

"What is exactly what you want?" Lucius questioned, narrowing his eyes. He could feel his magic get restless inside of him, prompting him to accept now and ask later no matter the issue. He was smarter than that. "What does Potter want that he can't get the Ministry to do in his stead?"

The cruel giggle from her lips was smooth, though from the way she stopped suddenly Lucius guessed she still wasn't comfortable with doing the dirty job. It had been her idea to look for him, then.

"Do you know the tale of the Deathly Hallows, _Lucius_?" Granger surprisingly asked.

Lucius did. Every pureblood child heard those tales from the crib. He was not surprised she knew them as well, because if anything was true of the mudblood was her thirst for every kind of knowledge. Lucius wondered if that thirst included the Dark Arts, and how would she feel about them. How would her perfectly controlled magic react to the sweet caress of the Dark?

"Yes," was his only answer. He didn't trust himself to say more because the growing need to taste her magic left him wanting to pin her to a wall and stare into her eyes until he could see if there was a hint of darkness amidst the light she preached.

"They're real and Harry has them. But we have not been able to find reliable information on them." Lucius almost chuckled there, hearing the indignant tone of voice that answered his question. She would _thrive_ with the knowledge of Dark Arts. "There is someone in Germany who has the memories we want, but we swore to never harm an innocent."

"If he has information about legends lost centuries ago, he is no innocent. The knowledge came from someone else and who knows how your German wizard got it."

He could almost hear her smile when she answered. "Good, then you are already thinking of doing it."

Lucius almost said no, but this chance was his only one. "What will I get if I help you?"

"I'm sure Narcissa and Draco would benefit from having you with them to guide them through these trying times."

"Then I'll do it," Lucius said. "Get me out of here and give me a month to get back into the business."

Her laughter echoed in the cell. "You will go directly to Germany. That way, if you're not up to par we won't lose someone _important_."

His blood boiled. How dare a _mudblood_ call _him_ unimportant? He alone prevented the idiotic Fudge from losing the wizarding world economically, _he_ was important. It wouldn't do to show his displeasure.

"Alright," he agreed. It didn't matter if he had no time to recover. He had intelligence and power at his disposal. He would do.

Immediately, he felt her magic strip the cell from the wards that prevented him the usage of his magic. He was still wandless, but full of confidence. He would not fail.

"Consider this an early payment," Granger said. "Someone will be here to liberate you."

Somehow, when she went away and he mused over her words, he got the impression that her words were meant to make him feel like a house elf.

It worked.


End file.
